One of my eccentricities is a reverence for Glade. Yes, I did say “reverence.” If any commercial product can be said to be holy, then it is Glade — it effectively assails even my sneaker smells, which are the olfactory equivalent of whatever demon troubled that little girl in “The Exorcist” (1973).
I settled last night on the “Apple Cinnamon” variation. For some reason, the stores in Virginia do not carry “Lilac Spring,” and I’m disappointed, because I absolutely am weird enough to have a favorite Glade. Insert whatever joke you like to question my manhood here — I don’t care. It takes a real man to admit he loves the smell of lilacs. “Vanilla and Lavender” also figures prominently in my value system. I am perfectly comfortable with this part of myself, and I know I’m not the only one out there. I might start a Glade Pride movement. AND I SHOULD BE FREE TO MARRY WHOEVER I WANT. Including Caroline Dhavernas.
I especially need this perfectly designed product after a tray of nachos and cheese recently overturned in my new backpack. That event has resulted in the smell of nachos and cheese every time I open my backpack, which is weird. The upside, though, is the smell of nachos and cheese every time I open my backpack, which is F*****G AWESOME.
I figured I might be sending a weird message if I walked around as the human equivalent of a Mexico-themed scratch-n-sniff sticker, however, so today we are going to Glade that bastard. (Glade enthusiasts will occasionally use the product’s name as a verb.)